


falling

by NicuCostam



Series: Blarnis'lan - Cornflower Girl [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Epistolary, F/M, Solavellan, Well of Sorrows, You could say, smentymentalizm, well of sorrows - freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 02:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14534283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicuCostam/pseuds/NicuCostam
Summary: Half this, half that, never balanced enough. Like ghost or spirit, not entirely real. And that’s exactly how she felt.a bittersweet letter to Solas





	falling

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [upadek](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14410866) by [NicuCostam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicuCostam/pseuds/NicuCostam). 



> the title comes from song [Falling by Enkidu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3rvUNcueFg)
> 
> only good solavellan is very sad solavellan

I'm angry, maybe even mad. At you, Solas.

I should accept this, forgive you and forget. But I can not. And I think that no one, no matter how holy, caring and good, no one would be able to fully forgive you. I feel like you left me when I needed you most. Like you left me at my weakest.

And it's incomprehensible to me, how much I want to forgive you. I need it more than breathing.

 

They told me that they can't find you, that you have hidden from everyone, from me, that, maybe, we will find only memories of you. Remains. And, although I'm ashamed to admit it, I believed them. I stood alone on the balcony of my tower and thought,  _maybe you forgot about me, maybe you never cared, maybe you saw something new in my eyes, something that scared you._  Maybe I will never see you again.

And I wanted to see you, if only in a dream. Even for a moment.

But my dreams are haunted only by snows and wild wolves.

One summer passed, and then another, and with spring I healed. I sat in the garden of the Skyhold, making flower crowns of blue flowers, forget-me-nots, cornflowers, irises... As if I was 12 again, as if nothing had changed, and the small garden was an infinite wet meadow that I remember from the Wycome. That was my sweet lie.

However, I saw Rozłogi and they, even after two years, still burn due to the last spell of my parents. A wild, hungry and never fading flame.

And I couldn't stop it, even though I shed so many tears.

 

Do you remember how we played with glyphs? Drawing small signs with single words.

We wrote on the tiles, trying to fit as much as possible on the smallest surface. You first said  _I love you_ , but I wrote it and put it next to your bedroll. The word, sight of you working on a fresco, the warmth of the north wind and the sweetness of ripe raspberries, and my feelings that can not be described differently.

I remember. I still leave them while traveling on walls and stones, hoping that you will come across one of them.

 

I admit that I do not like this feeling when I look at the reflection in the mirror and I can not recognize myself. However, I should expect it.

I tasted the Well's knowledge, but never told you how strange I feel now when I look at my face. My blond hair, my blue eyes, and the dark lines of vallaslin did not change, still crossing my lips and disappearing behind my eyes. I look exactly the same as the first day we met. Yet I had to change, I know this.

Sometimes I wonder if actually I'm, ever was, the girl you met in the ruins of Heaven.

 

I am not alone. That means: ghosts surround me.

They don't want to or can't leave me alone. Even when I put protective glyphs on the door of my bedroom, they always follow me. Like I'm a lighthouse with a bright glow. As if they could use me, use my mouth and speak. Unravel all their secrets and curse mortals.

Distinguishing all of them, alive from the dead, is getting harder.

 

There is also this thought; wandering in my head and looking for confirmation in my memories. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

It's how you pronounced my name.  _Anaris_. As if you know it from somewhere very far and long ago, as if it whispered to you from behind the Veil. It's how you held my hand and kissed my fingers, whispering curses in the elven, that I pretended not to understand. Pain in your eyes when I from the Well of Sorrows in the temple of Mythal.

This thought is: I haven't met all of you yet.

 

I told you about my dreams, about snow and a thick, unknown forest. A shadow.

I'm lost, somewhere between despair and apathy, in a dense and sinister forest, which, however, is nothing like Tirashain. It sounds and smells different, something sweet, but spoiled, like desperation.  _I feel it differently_  as if I could taste poison, with a bitter aftertaste of betrayal.

And the only familiar thing is the eyes of the beast. Warm and watching over me.

 

I can still hear their voices. And although I can sometimes calm down so that they do not bother me, I will never stop hearing them.

Some whisper, others shout, the worst of them, however, are mocking me, my magic. They say " _Magic is an honor - until it becomes your chains_ ". When I ask them questions, they answer, " _We answer in a voice made of teeth_ ". And I do not know if I should ever believe them.

Certainly not when they chant that I'm holy.

 

It happens, and I can not control it, that there is so much magic in me that it literally pours out. That everything I touch turns into ice.

I was looking for one of the flower bushes in the garden, but it froze under my fingers, burst and broke into small crystals.

The next day the new plant bloomed in the same place. And it scares me even more.

 

Sometimes I have a feeling that something is in me. A delicate creature, hidden just behind my ribs.

It takes place next to the lungs so that sometimes the pain is unbearable. It's small but wild and wants to get out, break away and escape me. To hide among trees of the ancient forest, so no one could hurt it. Growing long, sharp claws, to defend themselves. Split blood when needed.

Sometimes I think that's my heart.

 

After all this time, two springs alone, I'm still waiting.

It would seem that nothing connects us except memories. However, and here is a joke, we both always loved old memories. That's why I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.

When you come back, if you want, I'll show you the flowers that I've grown, everything I've done. I'll wait.

 

 _Ma vehnan_ ,

I have a secret to tell you. I am not sad.

When I was still a little girl in Tirashan, my father used to tell me that when you love someone, truly, the lines of your fates tie together. They create a beautiful tapestry, an intricate pattern of your feelings and time together, part yours and part theirs.

My father said that this is why, when one goes away, their partner is never far behind. But, I do not feel that way. I feel... free.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Rozłogi [eng: Stolon] is my fanon village near Wycome where clan Lavellan spend few years and was eventually destroyed, I decided to not translate the name since, one, in this story it's not so important, and two, I passionately hate word stolon, it reminds me of a polish word for excrement, still near nature but not like this D:
> 
> also last part is actually quote/paraphrase from game Kingdoms of Amalur ([lorestone in Odarath An Hour](http://amalur.wikia.com/wiki/Secrets_of_Odarath))


End file.
